


A Straight Answer

by track_04



Category: The Last Unicorn - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 09:15:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8366767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/track_04/pseuds/track_04
Summary: Lir was seven the first time a cat showed up at his father's castle.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PhynixCaskey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhynixCaskey/gifts).



Lir was seven the first time a cat showed up at his father's castle. It snuck in through a door behind one of the men-at-arms and crept through the darkness, up the stairs until it found Lir's room. Lir woke up in the middle of the night to find it curled up at the foot of his bed, warming up the covers with its body heat. 

It was solid black and had a clever nose and whiskers that tickled Lir's fingertips when he offered his hand for inspection. Lir smiled and scratched carefully behind its ears, thinking that he'd find a name for it and feed it scraps of his dinner under the table and make the men-at-arms promise not to tell.

He woke up the next morning in time to see the cat slip off of his bed and onto the window ledge, scared off by the sound of his father's voice echoing down the stairwell. Lir watched it disappear out the window into the dull, wintry morning light and didn't go back to sleep. 

For a day or two, he let himself imagine that it might come back, but he wasn't terribly surprised when it didn't.

  
  


There were other cats that came after that--a small tabby with a crooked tail, a ball of white fluff that resembled a milkweed with ears, a tortoise shell with grey eyes and an extra toe on each foot, a surly old tom who spat at anyone who tried to come near. They all found their way to the castle and slunk around in the shadows, seeking out Lir and watching until he realised they were there, then running away when he tried to reach out to them. 

The first cat that ever came and stayed was Molly's cat, a skinny thing with a mangled ear and a knowing look in its eye. It followed Molly around the castle and lazed around on the stairs when no one was around and drank the tea left in Schmendrick's cup whenever the magician fell asleep with his forehead pressed against the table. 

When Lir reached out a hand to pet Molly's cat, it sniffed at his fingertips curiously before it turned up its nose and walked away.

  
  


"Do you like cats?" 

Amalthea was standing against the railing of one of the balconies, her hair loose and her arms bare as she watched Molly's cat circle her feet, purring happily as it came close to her ankles without ever actually touching.

"Why wouldn't I?" She gave Lir the same look that cats had always seemed to give him; it was like she expected to see more when she looked at him, but the actual sight of him left her wanting.

He folded his hands behind his back to keep from reaching out to her and smiled, a small expression that made his face look even more round and hopeful. "My father doesn't. He says he doesn't trust them."

"Does your father trust anything?" 

"Not really," Lir said, watching her profile as she turned her attention back to the sea. Molly's cat laid down at her feet and rolled onto its back, purring happily and swatting at the empty air.

Lir was tempted to offer himself up at her feet, too. Instead, he said a quick goodbye and returned to his room, where he stumbled his way around and over words until his pen found the shape of something resembling a poem. He copied it onto a fresh sheet of paper and read it back to himself until it ceased to make sense; when he went to bed, he dreamed about the Bull and Molly's cat watching Amalthea while she walked along the edge of the sea.

  
  


Molly's cat was there when Lir finally worked up the courage to find Amalthea again, the poem a heavy weight in his hand. He read it to them both, the lady and the cat, and they both listened as he read. Neither seemed particularly impressed with his inflection or the flourish that he added to some of the words, but he soldiered through and carried on to the end.

When he finished, Amalthea watched him silently, sizing him up before she spoke. "Do you think your father's right? Are cats untrustworthy?"

He frowned and dropped his hand to his side, the words slightly smudged where he clutched the paper between his fingertips. "I think they have their reasons for everything they do."

"And you want to understand those reasons."

"No, I don't need to understand them." He felt the paper crumple against his palm as he curled his hand into a fist. "I think just knowing them would be enough."

"I doubt it would be that easy," Amalthea said, something like amusement hidden in the corner of her mouth. "Cats aren't known for being straight forward creatures."

"Maybe not." Lir let the paper drop and watched as Molly's cat moved forward, batting at it with one paw. The remains of the poem rolled across the stones, coming to rest at Amalthea's feet. The cat made a soft, questioning noise and looked up at Lir, who crouched down to scratch behind its good ear. "But I don't know if I'd want it to be easy."

Amalthea watched him, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, and lifted a hand to touch the mark on her forehead.

"I should go." Lir left the paper where it was, resting beside the toe of Amalthea's left shoe, and left, mumbling a goodbye that got lost somewhere in the wind. The cat went with him back into the castle, purring happily as it wound its way through his feet.

On the balcony, Amalthea watched him walk away, expression curious, and then turned her attention back to the sea.


End file.
